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Essay on life


My Dead Dog

A woman who knew me from Sunday Night Improv, my  weekly improv jam, had heard that I was a writer and asked me if I would come to a reading on Tuesday night at a show she ran called Rough and Ready.“A reading of something you wrote?” I asked.“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “I had hoped you would read one of your stories – like the ones you put on the internet.” I remembered when I was a kid in grade school, I often took great pride in my ability to read stories out loud in class. Many

My Dead Dog

 A woman who knew me from Sunday Night Improv, my  weekly improv jam, had heard that I was a writer and asked me if I would come to a reading on Tuesday night at a show she ran called Rough and Ready.“A reading of something you wrote?” I asked.“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “I had hoped you would read one of your stories – like the ones you put on the internet.”

A Matter of Percentages

CARL KISSIN: IMPROVISER[[wysiwyg_imageupload:1567:]](This essay, appears with over two-dozen others in DRIVING ME CRAZY.)

The Great Dog Debate

You've heard of "Big Brother Syndrome," haven't you? Not Big Brother in the Orwellian sense, more in the "I am older than you and have been around longer than you and know more than you" sense.[[wysiwyg_imageupload:1221:]]It can be irritating and infuriating, but also, at times can be helpful. In some things, my older brother does know more than me. Whenever I have a computer or technical problem, for instance, I'm on the phone to my brother Nick in San Francisco, and he will patiently talk me through a problem, making it seem simple (well, simpler). He's also great at explaining money issues, and he's a good guy to have in a pinch (he once rescued me from drowning and helped hold the family together when our father was dying).